young people working together
young people reject dairy products
young people interested in electronics
young people today is better than young people before
young people children and the elderly in urban poverty in Ghana
young people’s guide to the orchestra
young people’s heroes
young people having fun on the beach

young people reject urban poverty products
young people guide the heroes on the beach
young people today working in elderly
young people is better together
young people’s elderly heroes
young people’s children having dairy
young people’s orchestra guide to electronics

Her scars I don’t
love I worship
my gods my maps my cruel
universe draws me in close
enough to stab slow so slow
epicenter of the gods of my own
scars
Not pink-fade on knee from
first bike hitting tree not
dime-dimple of TB not
hairless strip from oven rack burn
not missing bit of finger pad taken by edge
of glass in broken pane
Gravity well black hole dark
matter what’s the matter? god
particle time portal Big
Bang

In childhood, the war is never won;
the basement walls are plastered, leaky wounds,
a damp place to rest your June-baked body, leaning
into the concrete, cold as a kind hand on a fever.
Every exit, an escape or a banishment; your fingernails,
grime and gouge.
Your body is an English pea vine,
curling, white,
in the dark of the second grade coatroom.
You live in mutter and howl, on the wrong sideof every clothesline;
you brandish yourselflike a new jacknife,
like you belong to the heat that forged you.
You are arch and bend, always looking at stubble. You are
the top of the stairs, the second chapter, the breath